Warnings; Barbossa referring to the reader as ‘lass’ once, Barbossa’s accent (I literally had to sound out every word he says)
Pairings; Hector Barbossa (Pirates of the Caribbean) x Reader
I’ve never written for PotC before, but it has long been one of my favourite film series. I personally agree with the apparent consensus that Barbossa would be soft on his partner, in his own way at least, and there’s not enough Barbossa fics out there! Sorry to the Hazbin Hotel people, we’re going off topic (fandom) again – hope you enjoy!
Masterlist
-
The ocean stretched out before you, as black as the night sky above it. Moonlight occasionally glinted off the crests of the mild waves. From your position at the stern, you could just make out the gentle wake the Pearl left behind her. The ocean darkened into oblivion not so far away. The ship’s wooden taffrail was cold and smooth beneath your hands, which were chilled from the sea air. There were no crashing waves tonight, no salt spray to sting your face or wind to whip your clothes about and steal your breath.
The crew were below decks, largely asleep at this late hour. You would have joined them, but you had the familiar notion that even if you laid down, sleep would not come. So instead, you had chosen to stand in the place frequented by the fewest people, lest anyone else be on deck. You were at an odd kind of peace, you realised at length, in the cold and the quiet. One which came with a late night and no responsibilities until the sun rose. You closed your eyes to better feel the gentle movement of the ship beneath your feet, her motion over the calm water. You could imagine the rooms below you all the way down to the cargo hold and felt the quietness left behind by a crew done with their day of work.
So lost were you in your thoughts that you didn’t register the heavy steps of boots on the deck until they were right behind you. Your eyes flew open and you turned quickly, only to relax when you came face to face with Barbossa.
“Captain,” you nodded, respectful, turning back to the water just as you caught Barbossa’s smirk at the propriety.
He stepped up almost next to you, following your gaze out to sea.
“Yer far too proper fer a pirate ship,” he told you, voice coarse and rough as ever. “Ye still speak like ye belong in some grand house, with yer biggest worry bein’ what time ye should have the servants bring supper.”
You laughed, a grin on your lips. Compared to him, your voice probably did sound like something belonging to the nobility. You let the comfortable silence stretch a little longer.
“You didn’t have to come up here,” you said softly, eventually.
He had seen you cross the quarterdeck while he stood at the helm, his long coat and hat cutting a sharp, proud silhouette in the dark. There was no need to ask how he knew where you were. Though you doubted Barbossa would ever lose track of anyone onboard a ship in his care. Asking why he had come was equally as unnecessary. Unlikely though it no doubt would have looked to an outsider, you had each become quite comfortable in the other’s presence during your time sailing together. This was far from the first occasion on which he had sought you out – not that you would ever call it that to his face, or indeed anyone else’s. It was even further from the first time you had gone to seek him.
“Wanted t’,” he replied simply.
That was a good enough answer for you. The quiet resumed. The water stayed calm and the sky clear, the moon’s light a gentle presence. Barbossa’s presence was also a comfort. He had left enough distance that his coat barely brushed against you, but he was close enough that you could sense him in the space behind you clearly.
You weren’t quite sure how long you had been standing together when Barbossa moved. A single step of his long, uneven gait brought his chest to your back. You jolted in surprise and he gave a low chuckle beside your ear.
“Easy, lass,” he murmured, his voice as soft as you’d heard it.
Barbossa placed his hands on the taffrail either side of you. He leaned forward, into you, until you were caged neatly between the taffrail and himself. When he said nothing more and made no further moves, you began to lean back against him in turn. It was when you tilted your head back onto his shoulder that you saw his self satisfied smile, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. You huffed a laugh of your own, lightly shaking your head.
He tipped his chin back just enough so that he could watch the sky, no doubt cataloguing every star and constellation in sight. Slowly, by increments, you turned further into him. You only angled your head to begin with, watching for any reaction which Barbossa didn’t give. You eventually came to rest your cheek on Barbossa’s shoulder. He made no acknowledgement of it, which was about typical of him and something you knew you were meant to take as his acceptance. That made you bolder.
In the minimal space he’d left you, you turned to face him, now keeping your head tucked to avoid his gaze lest he happened to glance down at you. You wrapped your arms around his waist and locked your hands behind him, leaning your weight against him. A low noise rumbled through his chest, though he still didn’t speak. It could have been something like a laugh, or maybe it was just an acknowledgement, but then his hand brushed upwards along your spine and returned to settle on your hip. The feeling that small action invoked was one of exquisite safety. The weight of his arm felt as secure as the ropes tying the sails to the mast somewhere above your heads, sure and steadfast.
You closed your eyes to savour the moment, feeling a light breeze begin to shift the air around you and the fabric of Barbossa’s coat on your cheek, roughened from years spent at sea. He stood motionless as ever, probably calculating the ship’s bearings to ensure whoever had taken the helm was keeping her on course. You gave a deep, relaxed sigh, and Barbossa definitely laughed that time.
“Content?” He teased, the grin evident in his voice.
You opted not to answer, pressing your face further into his shoulder to hide your smile. He tilted his head down towards you.
“Nay?” The word was a grand mockery of disbelief. “And here I be thinkin’ of how settled ye looked.”
Your shoulders jumped with silent laughter. He slid a finger beneath your chin and you finally conceded to meet his mirthful gaze with your own.
“I might be a little content…” You mumbled.
“Oh, mightn’t ye.”
His expression dropped to something haughty as he raised his chin in a display of – largely – faux arrogance, making a point out of looking down on you. You shifted to rest your own chin near his collar, leaning against him completely now because you knew he could support you with ease.
“Only a little,” you grinned.
The generous roll of Barbossa’s eyes only served to amuse you further. He clicked his tongue for extra emphasis only to hold you to him with a hand splayed across the back of your head. The pressure was a welcome comfort and you found your eyelids dropping of their own accord. You assumed Barbossa had taken notice of the shift in your breathing, which was becoming slower and deeper than before, because the hand on your hip tightened just a fraction and he began to trace the lightest of patterns in your hair. You gave up on fighting the pull of exhaustion after that, ending up half asleep on your feet. But Barbossa wasn’t going to let you fall, and there was a long time yet before dawn.
Summary: At the beginning of your relationship with Captian Hector Barbossa, you didn't really get along with Jack. Until sneaking away to take a nap, what happens with Jack finds you asleep when you could be working?
Contain Warning: Fluff, Reader is explicitly female
Pairing: Hector Barbossa x reader
Word Count: 1.3k
A/N : Hello, my beautiful people, this is my first time posting something like this and I'm sorry if there are grammar errors. I tried to be as canon as possible. I recently rewateched the Pirates of the Caribbean series and I thought there wasn't enough fanfics about Barbossa and Jack's relationship with the reader.
Being the only lady on the Black Pearl wasn’t the easiest. When you first joined, just over two years ago, many crew mates were skeptical of you and your ability to fight. They thought that because you were Hector’s lover that you wouldn’t do anything and was just a pretty face on board. But over time, they grew to like you as you fought during fights and saved some of their lives. You had a strong will and were stubborn to prove that you belonged on the Black Pearl. That’s one of the reasons Hector fell for you in the first place. He needed a strong woman if they were to be by his side.
The only crew mate that took the longest to get comfortable around you was Jack. For some reason, Jack didn’t care for you and for a while, you thought it was because you were taking his owner’s attention away from him. Which at first was the case but unbeknownst to everyone, he just didn’t know what he wanted. He would get praise and food from stealing jewelry from people and thought that was all life had to offer.
Until one day, you snuck away and found a good hiding spot to take a nap. You had just finished cleaning the deck and Hector was busy navigating in the captain’s cabin. You didn’t want to bother him so you went on the deck and found a couple of barrels in a corner with some space between the walls to lay down. You found an old sheet that nobody seemed to be using and took it. Though it wasn’t the most comfortable napping spot, it was going to do.
You laid down and got as comfortable as you could before starting to dose off. The soft rocking of the ship and waves gently hitting up against the boat made it easier to fall asleep. Everything was peaceful and waited until you heard some wrestling near you. You opened your eyes to see Jack on top of the barrel, staring down at you.
“What do yer need, Jack?” You whispered, in hopes nobody was close enough to hear you. Jack just looked at you with curiosity before climbing down the barrels and standing next to you. He didn’t make any sounds, just started shaking your shoulder and moving the sheet.
“What’d yer want, uh?” You said with some annoyance but Jack persisted. You groaned as you started to move and lift the sheet off of you that Jack got in between the sheet and you. You frowned your eyebrows, “Yer want to sleep?” Jack just pulled the sheet over him and laid down next to you. You laid back down and allowed for this weird situation to happen. Jack never once showed any affection towards you in two years of you getting on the Black Pearl. Two years of trying to get him to like you and just like that, he decided to take a nap with you.
Over time, this became a routine to take a nap with Jack. No one knew of this routine nor that Jack started to like you, not even Hector. Jack still kept his distance from you outside of the naps.
As time went on, things got more busy on the ship and you had to stop taking naps much to Jack’s dismay. It had been a little of a month as you last took a nap and the day just dragged on. The ship was docked on the port of Tortuga. You were helping with inventory and organizing things as others went into town for drinks. Hector tried to convince you to come along but you wanted to finish things up first before drinking. That left just you and Mr. Gibbs.
Mr. Gibbs was checking boxes and loading them onto the ship and you checked off the list. “Alrigh’ miss Y/N, I think that’s the last of it,” he said as he brought the last box onto the ship.
You looked at your list one last time and nodded, “Yea, seems like it. Yer should go out with the rest of the crew and have some rum, Mr. Gibbs.” You put the list down on top of a crate as Mr. Gibbs set the last box down.
“Will yer be joinin’ us, miss?” He asked, turning towards you.
You shook your head, “No, I'm stay here and rest for a bit. Long day.” Mr. Gibbs then agreed with you and left to join the others. You had a few hours before people started to return so you decided that this was the best time for a nap. One that was well deserved. Walking into your shared cabin, you took off your trousers and shirt that became soiled from working. You picked up a cleaner shirt and pulled it over your head before laying down in the comfy bed.
You don’t know how long you fell asleep for but you were rudely awoken to Jack hopping on top of you. You groaned as he landed on your stomach and you pushed him gently off of you, “ugh, that hurt Jack!” Jack didn’t seem to care though and pulled up the blanket and cuddled up to you, wrapping his small arms around you and placing his head against your chest. You laid back down and pulled the blanket of y’all and got comfortable. You didn’t think about who else was on board or if Jack somehow came here by himself. Highly doubtful.
As you sleep with Jack, many of the crew mates were coming back from drinking the day away. Hector came back wondering where you and Jack were. Mr. Gibbs had told him that you stayed behind to get some rest so he didn’t worry too much but that was a few hours ago. Sometime after he received this information, Jack left him. Hector assumed that he was just going to steal something and then never came back but Jack has always been able to take care of himself.
Walking on board, he walked past his crew towards his cabin. The door was ajar and a small lamp was flickering from the inside. He quietly stepped into the cabin, seeing your sleeping form. The light is just barely lighting up your face. He walked closer to look at you. Before you, he didn’t know it was possible for someone to look so beautiful while sleeping. You looked so relaxed with your hair all over the place and messy. His eyes scanned over your body and almost missed something moving on top of your body.
Confused, he pulled the blanket up and was in shock. Jack was snuggled up to your chest. The monkey that expressed his dislike of you for two whole years was sleeping on top of you. He never really cared that Jack didn’t like you because it didn’t cause many problems despite all things considered. But this warmed his heart to see Jack taking a liking to you now.
The cold air hit your body as the blanket moved and you started to stir awake. Hector gently put the blanket over you again but it was too late and you were awake.
“Well, look what we ‘ave ‘ere,” Hector spoke softly and you looked up at him, “ ‘ow long this been goin’ on?”
You mumbled something that he couldn’t understand then turned on your side, holding Jack close to your chest. Hector couldn’t explain this new feeling he was experiencing. It felt like his heart was going to explode with emotion. He waited so long for Jack to warm up to you and finally gave up trying to convince Jack that you were a bad person and wasn’t going to do anything. Jack never showed any affection towards you so he wasn’t quite sure when this happened but didn’t matter now. All that mattered was his favorite companion and love of his love were finally getting along.
Without waking you up, he slowly placed a kiss on your forehead and left you to sleep. He went outside and barked orders at people to quiet down so that you slept peacefully.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note: Please let me know if this sucks or not! Also if I should continue writing. This is my original work so please don't steal my work.
I couldn't think of a title so might change it later.
I wanna say that I’m absolutely in love with Captain Barbossa, I’m incredibly down bad. I absolutely devoured your fics I need more frfr. Especially the 18+ ones. There aren’t enough.
Whenever you see this, I would love to bounce ideas of this man absolutely being p*ssy drunk with reader pushing them away whimpering from overstim orrrr reader being c*ck drunk, climbing into hectors lap at his desk, taking his c*ck out and warming him and leaning into him.
SURPRISE! I promise I read my ask messages
Read HERE on Ao3—Full drabble under the cut
[THIS IS SMUT, PWP, READER BEWARE lol]
With Tia Dalma's magic, Hector had returned to life voracious in all manners. He ate food as if it were his last meal, drank his fill of anything he could get his hands upon. Even his lust could not be slaked, not when presented with the sight of your wet cunt.
Any time not spent tending to Tia Dalma's cabin or running errands for the witch were spent being corralled into the small bedroom you shared since his revival. Hector cared little for when or where. If he could get you bare before him, it mattered not the time of day. When his appetite demanded it, he was swift to comply.
Today, Barbossa was hungry.
“Fuck, Hector!” Your hands pressed at his forehead, knocking back his hat to the floor. Your fingertips dug into the scarf that kept back his hair in an effort to ground yourself.
Barbossa's palm pressed your thigh against the bedsheets, uncompromising as he held you still. His strength, now returned, was used to cling to you while his mouth remained sealed around you. When his tongue wasn't circling your clit, it pressed inside you and curled against the spot that made you whine. Every few moments, the seal of his mouth would break and you could hear the slick, wet sound of his slurping.
The bed beneath you was wet with spit and your arousal. The sheets stuck to your skin even when your hips jumped from the mattress to chase the pleasure Hector's mouth provided. Every such motion was met with a growl from the man between your legs as Barbossa held you down.
Hector was unrelenting. Even when he pulled away for seconds to catch his breath, his eyes were hazy with lust and his mouth glistened with slick. His beard was wet with it, and still he dove back for more.
Your blood felt like it was on fire. Every circle around your clit, every kiss and suck and curl of his tongue was rapidly bordering on too much. Sweat beaded on your forehead, heat flushed your chest and cheeks. Your grasping hand pulled hard enough on Hector’s hair to earn a moan that vibrated through your nerves and shattered you.
Your orgasm exploded through you like black powder igniting. Your eyes pinched shut, and his name whined from your throat in a raw and desperate way. Every muscle in your body tensed and went limp against him as the bliss washed away any other thought in your mind.
This didn't stop Barbossa, who slowed his mouth for only a moment before kissing your clit again.
The overstimulation skittered over your skin and left goosebumps in its wake. His fingers had joined his mouth in your slow torture, pressing up against the walls of your cunt while he returned his tongue to your clit. It was too much. Pleasure burned through you so hot that you were certain you'd turn to ash in his hands.
The second orgasm took all the air from your lungs with it. Your fingers knotted into Hector's hair and pulled taut. This time, you'd pulled hard enough that your Captain groaned against your cunt. If you'd been any less than half-delirious, you might have seen his hips jump forward in his body's desperate attempt at friction.
Your mind was too fuzzy with the blissful haze of two orgasms to notice, though. Your eyes stared at the thatched ceiling, looking but not seeing while sparks still danced in the corners of your vision. It wasn't until you felt your lover's lips press kisses to your stomach that you found your ability to speak again.
“God, please!” You wriggled your hips, head pressed back into the mattress as your eyes fluttered shut. Weak hands pushed at his head to shove him away, but he merely chuckled at the attempts.
“Nay, no god about.” Barbossa nipped at your thigh, leaving a wet kiss to your skin to soothe it. “What're you pleading for, lass?”
“Just a moment, please.” Your voice sounded so meek. You were robbed of sense, boneless from the pleasure that still fluttered through you like butterflies.
The request made Hector grin, but he acquiesced and sat back on his heels. Smug delight decorated every inch of his face. He smoothed a hand over his beard and wiped some of the mess on the sheets that hung over the side of the bed.
Before long, two warm fingers slid back inside you. The touch produced a weak cry from your throat. Hector curled his fingers as he pulled them out, taking them between his lips to lick your cum from them. The sight sent a new wave of heat right to your core.
“One more for me, lass.” Hector didn't ask, didn't entreat it of you. He said the sentence like he might order his crew about. There was no room for complaint or denial. No place to disagree.
“I can't,” you whimpered still.
“You can. Just one more.” Barbossa was already kissing your thighs while his thumb stroked the bare skin above your knee. “One more for me.”
Your hands abandoned his hair when his lips brushed your clit again. Instead, they grappled for purchase in the bed. You clung to the sheets like they might save you from the white-hot pleasure that replaced your very marrow. A part of you worried you'd ignite in a blaze. Every wet lap of Barbossa's tongue sent you closer and closer to another orgasm.
You weren't certain you'd survive it.
Still, it washed over you in a wave of heat. Every muscle whined with the effort and your back arched from the bed before you fell back to the mattress in a daze. You felt like you were floating and flying while sinking into nothingness all at once.
Hector had risen from the ground to push back the hair that had stuck to your forehead amidst your thrashing. He must have wiped his face again, because the kisses he pressed to your face now were soft and gentle. An attempt to soothe you.
“Good lass,” Barbossa purred. His tender hands smoothed under your back and around your waist. As he lifted you, boneless in his arms, he carried you to the desk chair and cradled you in his lap. Your head rested in the crook of his shoulder, arms limp around his waist. Hector stroked the bare skin of your back while you recovered, murmuring praise against your hair.
When your sense returned, slow and sweet as molasses, you turned your head to kiss Barbossa's neck. They were delicate, sweet little kisses, but drew his attention all the same.
“More?” Hector murmured, insatiable as ever in his new life.
“Mm, only if you do the work.” You caught his eyes narrow in devious delight. “I know you want to take care of this.” You rolled your hips against where his cock pressed insistently to your cunt. Where the dripping evidence of your desire was staining the front of him.
That devilish smile remained. Barbossa didn't say anything as he guided one hand between your body, unlacing and pushing down the front of his breeches. The weight of his shaft pressed to your stomach, hot and hard against your skin. The tip was flushed and red, weeping against you. When you reached to touch it, even the slightest brush made it jump in your hand.
“Now lass, no need to be hasty.” Hector's hands found your arse and lifted it so that you hovered over him. It slotted his cock against your slit, gliding between your folds when you shifted your hips. “Relax.”
The catch of the head against your clit made you hiss, overstimulated by that alone. Hector quieted you with a kiss, guiding himself inside you. The stretch was familiar, the slide made easy by the three orgasms he'd ripped from you minutes prior. You still sucked in a breath that escaped a moment later in a shuddering sigh.
“There you go,” Barbossa kissed your shoulder, then just beneath your ear. When he shifted his weight, you could feel the press of his cock inside you. Yet, Hector remained still. He held you close, one hand sliding up to the nape of your neck.
You went to try and move, to show Hector appreciation for the way he'd wrung pleasure from you as essy as breathing.
“None of that,” Barbossa murmured as he held you still. “Rest. There'll be time for that later.”
Wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, it was easy to obey.
Warnings: Canon-typical mentions of violence, undead pirates being creeps
It always shocked you how cold it was on the open sea, even during the height of summer in the Caribbean. The sun could shine down on the ship and its radiant heat would still be interrupted by cold blasts of ocean water spilling up over the sides.
Of course, during calm, windless days at sea, the sun could often turn blistering and sweep through the ship in waves of stale heat. But most of the time, there was an air of coldness on any ship, but especially on the Pearl. (Of course, that could have also been because the entire crew was cursed with skeletonized immortality, who were always cold.)
Most of the crew complained day and night about their condition, though few wanted to voice their issues with Captain Barbossa. Nothing good ever came from complaining to him. Even if the crew couldn’t die, Barbossa could still subject them to punishments that would kill an ordinary, non-cursed person.
Barbossa also complained, but he did it in private, when only you could hear. You were the only non-cursed member of the Pearl’s crew, and that made you both valuable and vulnerable. While every other crew member could charge forth without fear of dying, you always had in the back of your mind that any day could be your last. That was also a constant worry of Barbossa, who rarely let you out of his sight even when you weren’t anywhere near danger.
On the sea, he would tell you, there is always danger.
And he was right. The danger of cannons and ropes and falling out of the crow’s nest and drowning and the ship sinking. Things that the rest of the crew didn’t have to worry about, but that could easily end your life.
You weren’t sure why Barbossa liked you so much. You could have reasoned with yourself that it was because of your warmth (literal and figurative), but he couldn’t feel it. Even when he was pressed against you in bed, his arms wrapped around your body, you felt his cold but he couldn’t feel your warmth. It bothered you that all the time you spent together, he couldn’t enjoy anything — the taste of food or drink, the touch of your hand on his face, even the glow of the sun or the sting of saltwater.
Still, you felt the need to at least pretend he could. If you thought too much about how he couldn’t feel anything, how he couldn’t enjoy life, it turned your mood sour. You also knew, however, that if he were a normal person, he would have been killed long ago. You were grateful that you’d been able to spend so much time with him, even if you were the only one who could truly enjoy it.
************
During one particularly blustery evening, where the winds raged against the sails and the waves crested high over the bow and stern of the Pearl, you watched the crew scramble to keep the ship upright. You were not allowed on deck during times like these. Barbossa did not want you out on the deck where you could get swept overboard. So you spent a lot of time alone, in the captain’s quarters. During this evening, when the waves were so choppy that the ship reeled from side to side and sent you tumbling back and forth, you landed upon an old wooden chest that had been bolted down to the floor. You clung to it, hoping beyond hope that the waves would disperse soon and you could overcome the bout of nausea washing over you.
When the waves finally did still, and the men could be heard moving about the deck, you pried yourself off of the chest and examined it. It was old, older than anything you’d seen before, and the metal braces looked nearly rusted through, thanks in no small part to its repeated exposure to saltwater. There was a latch with a lock on the front of it that looked equally rusty, but it wouldn’t budge despite your best efforts.
Making sure that Barbossa was still supervising his crew, you went through every drawer and cubby in the captain’s room until you found a key that looked as out of place as the chest did. When you tried it, the lock opened easily and fell into your hand. You pushed open the chest and looked inside.
It smelled of old wood, but not rotten wood. It was dry and earthy, warm and deep. The chest was filled with piles of clothes, each one folded neatly. You’d never seen these before. You pulled each article out, one by one, and unfolded them. There were waistcoats and trousers and jackets and dresses. Each item had detailed embroidery and mother-of-pearl buttons or gold filigree clasps. The fabric was soft and flawless. No gunshot holes, no powder burns, no knife cuts. And they were clean. It was as if the clothes had been purchased and then immediately locked away.
Why would Barbossa have such a treasure on his ship? You’d never seen him wear such nice clothes. And you couldn’t imagine him wearing them before being cursed, either. They were the clothes of gentlepeople, the people who owned ships instead of stealing them, the people who invested in trade routes rather than ambushing them.
At the bottom of the chest were a few accessories. A pair of women’s shoes, a belt, and a long snake-like coil of fabric. You pulled it out and it unfurled in your hands, cascading down to your lap. It was a scarf. It wasn’t made from fabric at all, but from yarn knit together. Judging from how soft and delicate the yarn felt, you guessed it must have been a very expensive — and very foreign — article of clothing.
You pressed the scarf to your face and breathed deeply. It smelled of the wooden chest and spices, as if it had just been picked up at a market, instead of being locked away for who-knew-how-long. You wrapped it around your neck and felt warmth spread through you instantly. If only Barbossa could feel this type of warmth. If only he could feel anything …
Barbossa shouted just outside the door, hurling curses at his crew. Your heart leapt into your throat and you stuffed all the clothes back into the chest, slamming the lid closed, and locking it. You fumbled with the key and hurried to the drawer where you found it, shoving it inside and slamming the drawer shut. You barely had enough time to throw yourself into a chair before Barbossa threw open the door. He stopped and stared at you, then looked around the room.
You opened your mouth to say something, but froze instead. The scarf was still around your neck. You swallowed hard and felt embarrassment, and a bit of fear, creep up your face. Never before had you disobeyed his orders, so you’d never received his punishments. And while you’d never explicitly been banned from opening the chest (you didn’t even know it existed until a few moments ago!), you knew you weren’t meant to look inside of it because it was locked and the key had been hidden.
Barbossa stepped into the room and closed the door. You avoided his eyes as he came closer.
“I don’t suppose it was the waves that unlocked that chest,” he said evenly.
You blushed and continued to avoid his eyes. “I’m sorry, Captain. I found it and I was curious. It’s no excuse.”
“I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t been wearing that,” he continued, motioning to the scarf around your neck. “Why are you wearing it?”
Your entire body felt hot with shame. “I forgot to put it back.”
He said nothing for a while, just stood before you. Then he strode over to the drawer where the key was, pulled it open, and produced the key.
“You’ll need to put it back.”
You nodded as you hurriedly unwound the scarf from your neck while Barbossa unlocked the chest and opened it. You carefully folded the scarf over on itself until it was a small pile, then you set it gently on top of the other clothes (which you hadn’t folded as nicely when you returned them). Barbossa closed the chest and locked it, tucking the key into his coat pocket.
There was a long moment of contemplative silence between the two of you when you finally decided to speak up.
“That scarf … it was really nice. It was warm. All of those clothes are nice.”
“I know. That’s why we took them.”
“Right …” You chewed your bottom lip, studying Barbossa from the chest down. You still didn’t want to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, again, Captain.” You didn’t voice how you felt it was a waste of good clothes, warm clothes, clean clothes. What was the point of having them if they were just going to be locked away in a chest?
Barbossa hummed and headed for the door. He stopped halfway and looked back at you, catching your eye as you dared to look up at his retreating form. You blushed but didn’t look away.
“The clothes, you can’t wear them on the ship. It’s no point to be wearing nice clothes like that when you’re on the Pearl.”
You nodded. “I understand.”
“But,” he continued thoughtfully, his eyes sparkling mischievously, “the next time we make port, you’re welcome to wear what you want from that chest.”
Stunned, you blurted out, “Really?”
“’Course. You’re the only one on board that don’t look much like a pirate, and we could use someone with a good disguise, if we’re landing in a not-too-friendly place.”
You grinned at him, unable to contain your excitement. “Thank you, Captain.”
He rolled his eyes in exasperation at you and you knew to correct yourself. You crossed the room to him, rose up on your toes, and placed a kiss to his cold cheek.
This masterlist is mostly for my own use, but also serves as a recommendation to anyone who stumbles upon this blog, and an archive in case any fics are deleted or blogs go inactive. If you would like your fic removed please message me.
Warnings: phonetic spelling of accents, p in v s/x, possessive behavior / language, hints of soft Barbossa, men hit on reader in a pub but not for long
Summary: When you and the rest of the Black Pearl’s crew finally docked in Tortuga, you hoped for a night of celebration in the pubs— of course, things never quite go to plan, do they?
Or;
Drunken men hit on you in a pub and Barbossa gets jealous.
Pairings: Hector Barbossa/fem!Reader
A/N: gods this dialect was hard to pin down, so so fun to work on tho omg
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Word count: ~5.3k
~
As much as you loved the sea, and you did love it, you were excited to stand on solid ground that didn’t shift and shudder beneath your feet with every wave. As sturdy as the Black Pearl was, you couldn’t help how the creaks and groans of the wood at night reminded you that you really were at the sea’s will.
This fact popped into your head once more as you hopped easily off the boarding plank and onto the pier below. Despite the disorienting feeling of walking on steady ground again instead of the familiar pull and weave of the ship, the earthy (and alcoholic) scent steadied you. You stretched your arms over your head, cracking your back with a grunt as you felt your muscles stretch.
Before you could take a step forward there was a familiar warmth pressed against your lower back. You let out a curious hum, tilting your head back to meet your partner’s gaze. Barbossa’s cool blue eyes met yours with a smug cock of his eyebrow. His fingers tapped a rhythm on your lower back before settling on your hip, tugging you into his side.
“Attached already?” you teased quietly, nudging his side with your hip, “We’ve barely docked, Cap’n.”
He scoffed beside your ear, rolling his eyes with a scowl you knew was just for show by the way his hand squeezed your hip with faux warning. “Be it a crime now to lay claim in what’s mine?” he asked. His voice dropped an octave as he leaned a bit closer to rumble sarcastically, “Forgive me if I’ve… concerns about the ingrates that swarm the bars of Tortuga.”
You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out, cheeks warming at the reminder. “...Maybe,” you retorted lamely after a moment, clearing your throat.
He hummed, tapping his fingers on your hip once more before drawling, “Well, what’s another crime added to our list, hm?”
You groaned playfully, turning away from his faux curious gaze. His breath puffed against your neck as he laughed at your demeanor, pulling away only to lead you alongside him as the rest of the crew crowded past you, scattering through the streets of Tortuga.
You let yourself be dragged towards your usual pub, slipping inside the rowdy bar with ease. The familiar warmth of Barbossa’s hand on your hip faded as you both weaved through the crowd, ducking beneath potted plants being thrown and beer spillage. It was easy for you after all of these years, the pub becoming like a second home (ship?) away from home with how often you all stopped there. The musicians played a hearty tune as you spun through the sea of people, eyes scanning any available seats.
As you slipped into an unoccupied bar seat you felt a familiar presence looming over your shoulder. You glanced to the side to find Barbossa leant comfortably on the stool beside you, scanning over the crowd with an elbow twisted to rest on the bartop behind him. He briefly met your gaze, raising his brows in acknowledgement before turning back to the crowd. You watched as Jack, the little monkey that had grown quite fond of you, scittered down his arm to the counter before grappling onto your shoulder.
“Hi, Jack,” you cooed, reaching a finger up to scratch behind his fuzzy ear. He let out a trill of contentment, butting into your finger encouragingly as you relayed your order to the bartender. The presence was one you were all too familiar with by now; Barbossa often had Jack “watch over” you when he couldn’t be around to do it himself.
It was sweet really, how protective Barbossa was over you when he claimed to be otherwise. It was also, admittedly, a bit annoying how often he seemed to swoop in whenever you were faced with the tiniest bit of danger. Even now you remembered how, when you two had first started seeing each other, he would shove you out of the skirmishes on deck in favor of banishing you to his cabin. Despite how furious you always were at the end, he ended up brushing off your complaints with a sneering reminder of who was Captain.
It had taken you a long while to see through his cold demeanor and realize it wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself, rather that he hadn’t wanted to risk anything happening to you. It was a startling yet sweet realization, one festered with his taunts of how “there be a reason naught but few ladies on these seas”. It was bullshit, of course, an insult to keep you at arms length from his feelings.
Still, the concern from him was… touching. You rarely saw the softer side of Barbossa, even when concealed with his snark, and any reminder of it left your heart clenching in affection for the man. You supposed Jack was proof of that, regardless, though– your furry friend only ever left your shoulder to perch on Barbossa’s.
You were snapped out of your thoughts as a mug was placed in front of you, the bartender already whirling around to serve another patron. You took a big gulp of the drink, nose scrunching up at the burn that followed. You suppressed a cough, favoring swirling in your barstool to survey the bar once again. Your gaze flitted through the crowd, searching for any familiar figure.
You barely made out one of your crew, Ragetti, trying in vain to grasp his wooden eye that you assumed was rolling on the floor. You snickered into your mug, taking another gulp as you appreciated the view of Ragetti’s frantic crawling and weaving through the crowd’s legs. The blasting bar music muted whatever he was trying to yell, and you huffed out a laugh when someone ended up tripping on the eye, setting their angry sights on Ragetti as the culprit.
Before you could witness what was certainly most entertaining fight of the night, you felt Jack’s tiny claws sink into the cloth of your shirt with a quiet chirp. You furrowed your brows, tilting your head to see whatever had caught his attention. Before you could turn fully, you felt a weight snake around your waist from your side. Assuming it to be Barbossa, you swiveled in your seat with a growing smile.
It immediately faded into a scowl when you didn’t recognize the patron. His eyes were hazy, already way too drunk to be in the bar, a sleazy grin on his face that you were sure he thought was sexy. You cringed, leaning away from him with a roll of your eyes, “Not interested.”
“H-hey gor-rgeous,” he slurred out, batting his eyes. He either hadn’t heard you, or… didn’t care. Either way, it made your frustration spike.
“Take y’er hand from my hip or you’ll be losin’ it,” you growled, shoving his chest. Jack screeched in what you assumed was agreement, quickly clawing at the man’s face for emphasis. Too drunk, Jack’s claws easily met with the man’s cheek, blood already clotting from the scratch.
“Y-ye fuckin’ rat!” the man shouted in surprise, stumbling backwards. In the time you’d taken to reject this man, another had saddled up on the other side of you, his smooth voice booming in your ear uncomfortably.
“The lady said nay,” the new man scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist. You cocked an eyebrow in disbelief at the bold move, turning to see the, slightly less, drunk man who took it upon himself to “save” you. “Ye okay, lass?” he asked with a crooked grin, sending a wink towards you before continuing, “I can keep y’a company, lass. Keep these scoundrels away.”
“Nay, she won’t be needin’ the likes of you to assist her,” another voice growled, one that sent a flutter through your chest. Jack screeched in greeting, scampering off of your shoulder to race up the inky black sleeve of your beloved.
“An’ who are you to speak for th’ lady?” the man scoffed, tightening his grip around your waist. You’d forgotten his arm was still around you, scrunching your nose in disgust as you made eye contact with Barbossa. The corner of his lip curled up into a scowl you’d seen far too often, his hand instinctively snaking down to his holster.
“Her lover,” he ground out with a snarl of his lips, eyes narrowing dangerously. In a flash, Barbossa’s gun was pressed to the man’s jaw, prodding uncomfortably as he toyed with the trigger. “Whaddya think, Jack?” he taunted, tilting his head to the monkey, who chittered in response. A sick grin grew on his face at the supposed response, cocking the barrel with a practiced thumb, “Aye, you be right, Jack. He be worthless.”
Within seconds the man’s arm was jerking away from your waist, palms raising up in surrender. You watched the man gulp, trembling as Barbossa leant in closer to him. Your chest squeezed once again at the display. Another reminder of his care for you. …Even if he was about to shoot someone in a bar.
“Cap’n,” you tried, raising a hand to rest it on his forearm. His eyes flit to yours briefly, raking down your form to check for anything that might’ve happened. His thumb didn’t relax until you stepped closer, squeezing his arm with a silent reassurance. You were fine.
His scowl deepened momentarily, and with a flourished spin his gun was back in his holster. Jack let out a whine that you swore sounded disappointed as the man stumbled back. “I’d advise y’e keep y’er hands to yourself, boy,” Barbossa hissed, watching intently as the man scrambled away, “Lest ye lose ‘em to a man far crueler than I.”
Before you could process what had happened, Barbossa’s arm was curled tight around your waist, fingers digging into your hip almost painfully. Within moments you were dragged out of your own seat, hands scrambling for purchase on his sleeve. Your feet bent awkwardly as he pulled you onto his lap, his arm steady around you.
Your back hit the solid warmth of his chest, thighs slotting between his as you shifted to get more comfortable. His chin settled on your shoulder, and when you felt his warm breath puff against your cheek, you instinctively leaned your head against his. You huffed softly, leaning back into his embrace as your brows furrowed in annoyance.
“Thank y’e,” you mumbled, reaching out to grab your mug of rum for a sip, “Gods forbid I spend more than a few minutes alone lest the dogs swarm.”
He hummed in your ear, his arm shifting around you more securely, “Dogs be a lackluster term for the vermin here.”
“An’ what would you choose?”
“Feckless ingrates, horned mutts, cockroaches–”
“Aye, aye,” you laughed, leaning back into his chest and earning a huff of laughter against your cheek, “Well, it be not our problem now–” you were cut off by him suddenly shifting beneath you, raising you both up from the seat.
You felt yourself being tugged away from the bar, eliciting a surprised exclamation and a final gulp from your mug. “Hector,” you whined in his ear, squirming in his hold, “I didn’t even get to get tipsy–”
“I’ve rum in my cabin,” he muttered, not relieving his grip on your hip.
“The crew–?”
“Will find their way back,” he shot you a sharp glance, squeezing your hip lightly as he dragged you out of the bar.
You groaned in frustration, struggling to hold back the amused grin trying to worm onto your face. “Is that how ye thank y’er savior?” he mocked, rolling his eyes as he shoves open the pub’s doors.
“Thank you,” you retorted sarcastically. Despite your tone, you readily leaned into his side as he weaved through the alleyways of Tortuga. He huffed in response, and you’re sure that if you’d seen his face he would be rolling his eyes once again. He was silent the rest of the short trip. Silence wasn’t unusual for you two; many nights you two spent in his cabin silent, him charting his maps and you milling around with his trinkets or reading.
You admired the stars above as he led you back to the boarding plank, wood creaking beneath your boots. You hopped onto the ship easily, noting the way Barbossa’s hand slid from his ironclad grip on your hip to resting firmly on your lower back. You resisted a shiver at the feeling, biting the inside of your lip as he guided you to his cabin.
“Were I a dumber man,” he started finally, kicking his door behind him shut, “I’d say y’e enjoyed that little show.”
“Enjoyed?” you scoffed, sending a grin over your shoulder, “Sure, if you call me getting two sips of my rum enjoyable–”
You were cut off by his hand snaking down to grip your ass, squeezing one cheek between his nimble fingers. A startled noise was ripped from your mouth, back arching instinctively to flinch away from his hand. “What was it you were sayin’?” he taunted, his other hand raising to trace his nail along your jawline.
You scowled at the action, twisting your head to angle a half-hearted glare at him, “I said,” you repeated, a pout gracing your lips as his hands left your form, reaching for his own stash of alcohol, “I only got two sips of my rum before you interrupted me.”
“I interrupted you?” he guffawed with an obvious roll of his eyes as he poured you a replacement mug of rum, “An’ I suppose we’ll just be ignorin’ the attention you got, then?”
“Aye,” you tutted, crossing your arms defiantly, “We will be.”
“Ah,” he gave you a thin smile as he placed the rum in front of you, “So, am I right t’be assumin’ you liked the attention y’got?”
“You know I didn’t,” you shot back, snatching the cup from in front of you to bring to your lips, “I just want one night where I’m not dragged out by the end of the first hour.”
“Be it my fault those ingrates–?”
“No,” you groan frustratedly, “But do we have to leave the second it happens?”
“Well, apologies for not enjoyin’ the way those boys were tryin’ to take what’s mine.”
“Why d’you care, Hector? You know I be yours,” you sighed again, rapping your foot on the wooden floor quietly.
“Aye, you are, and it seems y’e need a reminder of it,” he rumbled, taking your chin between his fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his. You met his icy gaze, resisting a shudder at how intensely he inspected your features, as if trying to commit them to memory. He thumbed gently at your bottom lip, almost tender in the way it traced over every curve and dip. His gaze trailed over your features, his own softening slightly, only enough for you to notice how his brows unfurrowed the tiniest bit, how his nigh permanent scowl seemed to quirk up into something almost affectionate.
You swallowed hard, heat blooming in your cheeks at how vulnerable you felt under his eyes. When you tried to glance away, feeling embarrassed at the attention, you only heard him tut quietly, similar to a sound he makes when scolding Jack.
“Shy?” he asked, the corner of his lip raising to reveal a crooked smirk.
“...Nay. Hard to concentrate when y’er looking at me like that,” you mumbled, scrunching your nose in defiance at his taunt.
He hummed in response, using his grip on your chin to turn your eyes back to him, “An’ how else should I be lookin’ at y’e?”
The question made you falter, combing through your mind for any sort of smart retort. It seemed you took a moment too long, for you heard Barbossa’s chuckle as his thumb climbed up your lip and prodded at the seam. Obediently, you allowed his thumb into your mouth, dropping your jaw agape.
“Cat got y’er tongue, lass?” he continued, emphasizing his words by pressing the pad of his thumb down on your tongue with an amused chuckle. You closed your lips around his thumb, nipping the flesh playfully.
Barbossa’s eyebrow cocked, slipping his thumb out of your mouth with a scowl (one that you knew was teasing from the softened curves of his expression) before rolling his eyes, “Charmin’. No wonder I’ve competition for y’er affections.”
“Aye, I’m a catch,” you grinned up at him, placing your rum aside as he drew closer.
“Aye, and y’er mine,” he growled out, eyes crinkling as he grinned crookedly down at you.
You couldn’t stop the shudder that ripped through you even if you’d tried, swallowing hard at the sudden warmth pooling in your abdomen. Fuck, sure he’d said similar before, but never this direct. He seemed to notice your sudden flustering, for he chuckled before tugging you up out of the chair.
“Ah, hit a nerve, love?” he nearly purred, his free arm snaking around your waist.
“...Nay,” you lied, feigning nonchalance. You could practically feel your clit swelling, each throb making your mind fuzzier. His hand squeezed your hip before tugging you closer, pressing your hips flush to his. You were just barely able to suppress the gasp that threatened to slip from your lips.
“Ah, so if I were to…” he released your chin, instead sliding his hand down the side of your torso, tracing each curve before halting just above the waistband of your pants.
“Go ahead,” you breathed out, swallowing hard. You could feel the lips of your cunt already sticking to your underwear, clinging to the fabric as his hand dipped beneath your bottoms.
You shivered as the pads of his fingers traced over your folds over the underwear, tutting teasingly, “Y’wouldn’t happen to be lying, would y’e?” he murmured, pressing a finger down on your clit, just weighted enough to make you gasp.
Encouraged by your response, he let his finger circle your clit through your underwear, applying the slightest bit more pressure. Your knees weakened at the sudden pleasure, clasping onto his sleeve to keep steady. “U-unfair, Hector–”
He cut your complaint off with a laugh, crowding closer to you to guide you back to the bed, “Unfair that I know y’er body better than those slobberin’ mutts?”
“Aye,” you pouted, allowing him to back you up onto the bed.
“Best hope I be feelin’ merciful today, then,” he retorted, eyes glinting in the dim lighting as he climbed on top of you, “Though, somehow, I think that be not the case…”
A snarky reply made home on the tip of your tongue, furrowed brows accompanying the playful scowl that curled your lips. Before you could bite back at him his hand was finally slipping underneath your underwear, calloused fingers dipping through your folds. You shuddered at the feeling, hips bucking up when his thumb joined in by pressing down on your clit.
You gasped out a moan, leaving your cheeks feeling warmer at the sudden noise. Barbossa’s chuckling was not helping your flustered state, and neither was the way his middle finger circled your hole teasingly. You swallowed down another soft moan as the tip of his finger just barely dipped into you, swirling around as if collecting your slick.
“What was it y’e were sayin’, lass?” he laughed breathily, sliding his finger up to swirl your wetness against your clit before pinching it lightly. He grinned as your hips twitched, a noise mixed with pain and pleasure jetting from your lips. You bit your lower lip instead of responding, knowing him well enough by now to know he would just do it again if you tried.
You felt his hand slip out of your underwear, leaving a trail of wet as he glided up your abdomen. You watched with interest as he raised his hand to his mouth, only to gawk when he popped his middle finger into his mouth. “Y-you…” you sputtered, still reeling from the sudden rush of arousal that shot through you at the sight. Your body burned, a deep throb reminding you of how empty you felt without him in you. Gods, was it really this easy to rile you up? You would be embarrassed if he didn’t look so fucking hot doing it.
“Better than apples,” he teased after a moment, licking his lips as if to collect any leftover fluid. He looked over your expression with obvious amusement, eyes crinkling in a silent laugh as he leaned closer to you, “Want a taste, love?”
You found yourself nodding before you even processed his offer, body buzzing in need of any sort of relief, any sort of touch from him. Your hand found the nape of his neck, dragging him down to meet you.
His lips met yours in a passion, his tongue immediately licking the seam of your lips. You bit his lower lip teasingly, refusing his tongue entry into your mouth. You vaguely felt his hand reach up to cup your chin, keeping you in place as his other hand dipped beneath your underwear once again. This time, his finger had no problem slipping into your dripping entrance, eliciting a gasp from you.
Barbossa used the startling to lick into your mouth, slipping his tongue against yours and exploring the familiar grooves of you. You moaned softly as he slowly added another finger, sinking them deeper at a painfully gradual pace as you squirmed beneath him.
Your tongue tangled with his eagerly, pressing closer to him as you faintly tasted your juices on his tongue still. He seemed pleased by the reaction, for he let out a low groan and quickly sped up his fingers, curling up into that perfect spot that made your hips jerk. His mouth quickly moved from your mouth to trail down to the column of your throat, nipping at the skin before suckling harshly on the sensitive area. You tipped your head to the side, encouraging the marking as you grinded down onto his fingers.
“Needy,” he growled against your neck before letting his thumb join below and rub circles on your sticky clit. “Still pissy we left early?” he continued, pairing it with a third finger sliding into you, spreading out to stretch your hole.
Even his fingers inside of your aching hole weren’t enough to sate the deep emptiness you felt in your core, even if you felt your orgasm coming along quite quickly because of them. Nothing compared to feeling his thick cock splitting you open, throbbing inside of you as his arms caged you in… Fuck, the thought was enough to send you to the edge as is.
The feeling of Barbossa’s fingers sliding out of you snapped you back to attention, an irritated groan leaving your lips as you shot him a weak glare. Your cunt ached at the emptiness, walls clenching around nothing. “N-no,” you answered finally as he cocked a brow at you.
He hummed in mock thought, using his now free hands to rumple up your shirt, rolling it easily over your head. “An’, remind me, love,” he started, voice in almost a coo as his fingers found your puffy nipples, rolling them over with his thumbs, “Why is it that we left?”
You shuddered at the new stimulation, back arching slightly to encourage the action, “Th-there were men–”
“Cretins,” he corrected swiftly with a pinch to one of your nipples.
“C-cretins,” you repeated, body shuddering as he crowded more into your space, spreading your legs with his knees as he knelt above you, “And you be jealous.”
Despite the technically correct answer, his lips curled back into a scowl with a roll of his eyes, “You might want’a be rephrasin’ that, lass.”
“An’ how would I rephrase it, Cap’n?” you retorted. He scoffed before shifting closer, hooking your knees over his thighs as he leant over you. You felt his hips slot against yours, his already hardened cock rubbing deliciously against your clothed clit.
“That I was almost plundered,” he growled, rutting his hips against yours with a low groan. His hardened cock rubbed against your clit, making you gasp as your hips instinctively moved in tandem to meet his.
“Pl-plundered? What, am I an object?” you bit back, though the breathy tone in your voice left the edge weak.
“What be mine was almost taken from me,” he rumbled, hips rolling perfectly against yours as his hands eagerly groped your breasts. His eyes were locked onto yours, glinting in what you could only describe as a predatory fashion. He continued breathlessly as he leant closer, “Be that not plundering?”
Your hips jerked at the statement, eyes fluttering closed briefly as your poor pussy clenched around nothing.
“Aye, that be what I thought,” he chuckled, interrupting your protests with another hump of his hips.
“H-Hector,” you gasped out, shooting him a weak glare, “Stop teasin’-”
He tsked, halting the movement of his hips to give you a cocky grin, “Nay, I think there be a better way to ask, don’t you?”
You let out an indignant groan, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. The sudden lack of friction was making your head fuzzy; you tried to grind your hips again instinctively. Barbossa’s hands were gripping your hips almost immediately, stilling any movement you hoped to make. He tilted his head, pouting teasingly down at you as if he wasn’t the one contributing to your frustration. You could feel his bulge grazing lightly against your soaked folds, crumbling any resolve you may have had to be defiant for him.
“Yours, I’m yours, now please–”
“Y’can do better than that, lass,” his hand slid over to lightly circle your clit through your bottoms, putting just enough pressure to make you squirm underneath him, seeking more friction than the almost painfully light touches. Heat rushed through your body, throbbing deliciously and making your mind spin.
“Need you to fuck me,” you finally gasped out, clutching onto the ruffles of his shirt as your hips strained against his hold, “I feel so empty, please, need you inside me–”
Barbossa growled at your words, moving to grip your bottoms. He yanked them off in one go, revealing your drippy folds to his eyes. You matched his energy easily, unbuckling his belt and dragging his pants down to reveal his aching cock. You wasted no time taking it into your hand; it was heavy and hot, and as you gave it a shallow pump you swore you already saw a bead of precum dribbling out of his tip.
It seemed Barbossa was just as eager, for within moments his cock was prodding at your pudgy clit, hips jerking to rub against it. You shuddered at the feeling, whining with a kick of your hips and eliciting another chuckle from Barbossa as he finally, finally, edged his tip into your fluttering hole.
Your eyes rolled back as he slowly sank into you, caging you with his arms as his cock bullied its way into you, splitting you deliciously open. “I’d say y’e were thrown overboard with how wet you be,” he mumbled, a low groan underlining his words as he pressed his forehead against yours.
The comment sent a snort of laughter through you; true as it was, here he was, cock stretching you open, and he compared you to a traitor thrown overboard. “Romantic, Cap’n,” you retorted playfully, squeezing your cunt around his cock for emphasis. You caught his familiar eye roll before you squeezed, making him groan and jerk his hips.
The sharp riposte poised on his tongue died as you squeezed around him again, forcing a low moan from his lips as his form shuddered above you. Instead of replying, he set a slow but deep pace, hips slotting against yours.
A choked moan left your lips as you felt his balls slap against the backs of your thighs, his elbows dipped on either side of your head. One of his hands reached down to pinch your clit once more, grinning at the whine you let out. You could feel his cock throbbing and twitching inside of your cunt, eager to feel you contract around him once more.
Truly, nothing compared to how Barbossa would fuck you. His mouth circled your nipple, suckling it as his pace quickened with each clamp of your walls. You could feel your orgasm rapidly building already, mind already too hazy to care about how wanton your cries were coming out.
It was, of course, right when you were about to tip over the edge that he halted. You let out a petulant groan, tossing your head back in frustration of being denied your pleasure again. Barbossa was merciful with your pleasure, usually, but it seemed tonight those vagrants at the bar had gotten to him.
“Who d’you belong to, lass?” he rumbled against your collar, nipping at the heated skin, “And choose your words carefully, lest I find myself less… generous to y’er plight.”
“Y-yours, you know that,” you gasped out, a whine underlining your tone as you felt his cock throb inside of you, “The men in the bar meant nothing, Hector. Nary do they compare to you.”
“Aye,” he growled, resuming his pace with a newfound passion, “That be true. None can make y’e cum as hard as me, isn’t that right?”
You moaned out his name, nodding emphatically as you wrapped your arms around his neck, locking your ankles behind his back and pushing him deeper.
“Aye, only my hands do this to y’e, my words, mine,” he moaned, pressing his forehead against the crook of your neck. You could feel as his hips began to stutter, the gasping breaths that puffed against your neck another telltale sign that he was close.
“Fuck, aye, only you, Hector-!” your head tipped back as his thumb suddenly found your clit again, rubbing in deep circles as you toppled over the edge. You came hard, squeezing your walls around his cock to the point where you could hear an almost pained hiss come from behind his teeth. You didn’t have time to question it before he was trembling, hips stilling with a deep thrust before he finished inside of you.
Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of his cum spilling deep inside of you, each jerk of his hips making sure that none went to waste. Your ankles tightened around his hips, pulling him closer, deeper as your cunt milked his cock dry. All you heard for now was the heavy breaths of you two, followed by a creaky groan as he slowly sat up, slipping his softening cock out of you.
You shivered at the feeling, squirming a bit underneath him at the sudden emptiness. He chuckled, hands resting on your thighs before one traveled down to slide through your folds. The overstimulation made you whine, though it quickly turned into a gasp as he pushed a finger back inside of your still fluttering hole, grinning down at you.
“Waste not,” he drawled before chuckling, eyeing the way your combined fluids molded around his finger.
“Tryin’ to knock me up, Captain?” you teased breathlessly as he climbed over you to rest beside you.
“And if I am?” he rumbled, tossing an arm over your middle and dragging you against his side, “A swollen belly will keep filthy dogs away from y’e.”
“...You want to raise a babe on the seas?” you retorted with a raise of your brow, grinning. You couldn’t deny the flutter your heart gave at the thought of being, well, domestic with him, though your lives were far too hectic for that.
“...Aye, y’have a point,” he grumbled, pressing his nose into the side of your head, “I’ll just have y’e on my lap at all times, then. No mistakin’ there.”
You huffed out a laugh, already feeling your head drift off into a comfortable sleep, turning over to press your nose against his collar, “...Aye, more than fine by me.”
